


Midnight Messages

by ParadoxMage



Series: Midnight Messages Expanded [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amélie/Lena, Comfort, F/F, Fanart, Long-Distance Relationship, Nightmares, PTSD, Some mind control, Texting, Trauma, Widowtracer, Your friendly neighborhood Sombra, clandestine relationship, some angst i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 19,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxMage/pseuds/ParadoxMage
Summary: Amélie Lacroix, or Widowmaker as most know her, is not quite so unaffected by her work as it appears. At night she is visited by all manner of demons, memories of all she has seen and all she has killed.For a very long time she spent her nights alone, too afraid to sleep.But eventually she found someone, in the most unlikely of places, who understood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it feels like it's been a while (mostly because it has).
> 
> Anyway, I'm posting this story on the one year anniversary of when I made this account. I'm still kind of reeling from that fact. It's been a year! So thank you all so much for reading my stories. I hope you'll enjoy this one.

Where is she? What is happening? 

Around her people move in a flurry of activity, white coated men shouting out words that make no sense to her.

Everything is pure white and brilliantly lit. Sterile.

Across the room someone moves towards a set of controls she hadn’t noticed before. Leading away from the panel is a wire, snaking its way across the floor, up the chair she is strapped to and beyond where her eyes can see, presumably to whatever object is resting on her head. 

The man in front of the console flips two switches and holds his hand above a button, watching someone standing off to the side, waiting for confirmation. The woman he is watching nods once, and the man pushes the button.

An instant later the world dissolves into an endless sea of pain, unbridled and unending.

She screams, feeling the back of her throat crack from the force of the sound, but she neither hears the scream nor feels the hot blood running down her throat.

The world around her dissolves, becoming nothing but all encompassing pain.

◇ ◇ ◇

Amélie Lacroix, or Widowmaker as most everyone knows her, wakes up screaming in agony from the pain, clawing desperately at the restraints holding her in place. Still yelling, throat becoming hoarse, she huddles herself in a corner of the dark room, hands up, trying to protect herself from the doctors who will try to drag her back to that room.

It will be many minutes before she realizes that there is no pain, that the restraints around her limbs had been nothing more than blankets, that there are no men in the room to take her to reconditioning. She is alone in her quarters. It had been a nightmare.

Still shaking, she moves slowly back towards her abandoned bed, the glowing 4:13 AM of her alarm clock the only source of light in the room.

She sits down on the edge of her bunk quietly and puts her head in her hands.

All she has to do is close her eyes and she is there.

Back in that horrible white lit room.

Being examined like a lab rat.

Doctors ready to take note of the newest spasms racking her body from the next jolt of electricity.

She isn’t sleeping tonight.

Making sure to block the camera on her ceilings view with her body, she moves over to a corner of her room and pries up a segment of the wall, pulling a small rectangular object from within.

Still being careful of the camera, she moves back onto her bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin, angling her body so that the camera cannot see that her eyes are open, and more importantly what they are looking at.

With slow, discrete movements designed to attract little attention, she opens the phone and types out a quick message.

**Are you awake?**

A beat later she receives a reply.

**Yeah, couldn’t sleep.**

**Nightmares.**

**You?**  

A small smile graces her lips at the similarity for their consciousness at this late hour.

**The same.**

Another message pops up a second later. 

 **What was it this time?**  

**The first day of reconditioning. Electro shock therapy.**

There is a pause, as though the correspondent is thinking about their reply. 

 **Are you okay?**  

**It was just a dream.**

**That doesn’t answer my question.**

Amélie looks at the message, not really surprised that her weak attempt to divert the inquiry has failed. She doesn’t relish answering it anymore.

Telling the truth somehow makes it feel more real. 

**No.**

**No, I am not okay.**

**Do you want to talk about it?**

**I guess it will help to kill time.**

**I… do not plan on sleeping much tonight.**

**Talk as much as you want. I’m here to listen.**

**And if it gets to be too much you can always stop.**

**Ok?**  

She knows it shouldn’t surprise her, but sometimes this amount of compassion and understanding is hard to cope with. No one understands her issues like her. Due in part to the fact that she shares many of them.

**Thank you.**

**Don’t mention it.**

**Do ya wanna get started?**

**Stalling will accomplish nothing.**

**Then why are you doing it?**  

**Because facing this is…**

**Terrifying.**  

 **We don’t have to if it’s too fresh.**  

**No, I want to.**

**Just…**

**Give me a second.**  

**Take as much time as you need luv.**

Amélie looks at the phone, the most recent messages still displayed. She could back out. She  could divert the conversation to something else and would never hear a single criticism. She could spend the hours until wake up call talking about nothing more important than the weather or the newest omnic attacks in Siberia. She doesn’t have to do this. 

She sighs.

She already knows what she is going to do.

◇ ◇ ◇ 

Thousands of miles away, Lena Oxton’s phone gives a quiet chime, displaying a new message from a blank contact.

She quickly unlocks her phone and reads the new text, smiling to herself, proud of the senders bravery, knowing from personal experience how hard it is to type those few words.

**Alright, let’s begin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go! This ones gonna be one hell of a ride if I have anything to say about it. What do you guys think so far? I'm eager to find out.
> 
> And in case it wasn't clear, anything right oriented is Amélie's and anything left oriented is her correspondent. If it's bold it's texting. I thought this was pretty clear but I don't want confusion to ruin your read.


	2. Chapter 2

Lights, pulsing around her rhythmically, blindingly bright. She can’t even see the doctors, though she knows they have to be there.

The lights blink in rapid succession, strobing into her eyes.

She forces her eyelids closed, but the light burns through them and into her retinas, a constant pain.

She tried to turn her head away from those brilliant lights, but it is strapped in place.

Then a voice speaks.

“Your name is Widowmaker.”

That is all it says, cold and certain.

She defies it.

“My name is Amélie.”

The lights pulse brighter, the pattern speeding up.

“Your name is Widowmaker.” says the voice again.

“My name is Amélie Lacroix! You do not control me!” she yells at them. She can feel them watching, even if she can’t see them.

“Your name is Widowmaker.” it says again.

“MY NAME IS AMÉLIE!”

The pain returns, just as sharp, burning every cell of her body.

She screams.

The lights and the voice weave their way through the knife edge of agony, the rhythmic chant of speech and the constant pulse of light combining, trying to override her fundamental idea of who she is.

“Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker. Your name is Widowmaker."

She can do nothing but scream into the light.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Into the dark.

She is awake.

It takes her a while to realize that _this_ is the truth. Not the white room and the bright lights and the insidious voice whispering in her ear.

Not yet anyway.

She sits in her bed, clutching at the sheets, terror lengthening the shadows cast by the half moon outside her window, the quiet sounds of night in the base as loud as a shotgun to her oversensitized ears.

Careful movements along a path she could walk blindfolded bring her to the opposite wall and back to her bed, her prize clutched tight, though she does her best to appear empty handed.

Climbing into bed, situating herself in the perfect position to disguise her motions, she slides the phone out from hiding and types out a quick message.

**I am in desperate need of someone to speak to.**

A moment later she receives an answer.

**Well as it happens I fit that bill quite nicely**

She lets a quiet smile slip onto her lips, at the simple joy of holding a conversation with someone who has no ulterior motive. Another message slowly lessens her happiness.

**What was it this time?**

She lets herself think about the still clear memory her sleeping mind had brought back to her. The lights, the pain, that _voice_.

She can’t.

**It’s fine if you can’t, we can always just talk about something else**

She lets out a mental sigh of relief, and feels her muscles untense slightly.

**How do you manage to read my mind from thousands of miles away?**

**I routinely break the space time continuum and you’re surprised by a bit of mind reading?**

**Fair point.**

**God, continuum is really hard to spell at three am**

**Then you should be congratulated on being correct twice.**

**I got it right?!**

They continue in this vein through the night, neither of them able to sleep, both unwilling to leave the others company.

She allows their conversation to wipe away the sharp edged memories that had masqueraded as dreams, forcing out those dark thoughts with the light of Lena’s kindness.

The sun rises.

They continue talking.


	3. Chapter 3

She is not sure if it has been days, weeks, hours or minutes. Time has lost all sense of meaning or semblance of reason. Reality has become unreliable and her own senses have frequently been turned against her.

She feels broken.

More than metaphor, she feels it quite literally. Her mind has been fractured into pieces, her hopes, her fears, her dreams, her memories, all of them shattered and jumbled and thrown about into a confused mass.

But out of that morass something has been forming.

She can feel it. A _presence_ , an alien consciousness forming in the shambles of her mind, out of the shards of her being. The worst parts of her are hand picked, nurtured and coaxed into the new being they are building inside of her, a thing with its own morals, its own loyalties, its own mind.

She does not have enough energy to fight back. They are stronger, so much stronger.

 

She is failing.

 

She has failed.

 

The world around her is unfocused, like a camera with its lens slightly askew. Sounds filter into her ears as though she is underwater. That’s how she feels, sluggish and unresponsive, as though she is submerged in ice. The cold numbs her, make her unable to move her limbs or to even feel concern for the fact. She dully realizes that it should scare her, but she does not remember what fear is like.

“Widowmaker, stand up.”

She does not want to stand up. These men have hurt her, have put her through more pain than she had even thought possible. They had tried to kill her husband. She will not listen to their orders.

She feels her legs shifting, knees bending. She stands.

She looks in shock, staring at her body as it disobeys her commands. She tries again, trying to sit, trying to defy them in some way.

She cannot.

It is as though someone has rerouted her brain, disconnecting it from her body. She has been relegated to an observer, sitting in the back of her own mind, watching as she numbly follows order after order from men she hates.

She screams, she cries, she desperately tries to reassert control over her body, but she is blocked at every turn.

She collapses, broken and beaten. She has given up.

She cries, but her body moves on, and no tears stain her vacant eyes.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

She sits bolt upright, the tears that she was unable to shed then pouring from her eyes now.

Hands shaking, fear still creating an underlying buzz that sharpens all of her senses to a knife edge, she moves quickly around her room.

She doesn’t care that the camera can probably see.

She doesn’t care that they might find out.

The most important thing in her life right now is getting to her phone and finding something to anchor her to what is real.

To pull her from the clutches of her nightmares.

Quickly she types out a message, thanking god for autocorrect as her shaking hands butcher the spelling.

**I need you.**

Those next few seconds feel longer than any she has ever lived. When the reply comes she almost feels like weeping.

**I’m here.**

She cradles the phone in her hands, a link to someone real, someone who cares, someone who _knows_ how she feels right now and will not judge her for it.

**What’s wrong?**

**I can’t right now.**

**It’s…**

**Can we talk about something else?** **  
** **To get my mind off of it.**

**Course luv, whatever you need.**


	4. Chapter 4

It is three in the morning.

The phone is ringing.

She tosses and turns, futilely hoping the phone will fall silent if she just ignores it.

Of course, it doesn’t work.

Groaning slightly, she swings herself out from underneath the warm sheets of her bed, muttering to herself darkly about how she was just asleep.

Making a mental note to give whoever is on the other end of the phone at this god-awful hour a thorough scolding, she picks up the handset and puts it to her ear.

On the other end is…

She can’t remember.

The words slip through her ears and out of her mind, leaving only a hollow where she knows they should reside.

More words follow, and with every unretainable syllable the world becomes hazier, as though someone is knocking an old tv out of tune. The world fills with static and her head fills with thoughts that are not her own, leaving feather light impressions on her mind.

The call ends, a dull beeping the only sound on the other end to signify the caller has hung up.

The phone slips from her hand and falls to the ground, where it will continue to quietly spout the dial tone until its batteries die.

She feels… hollow. All her thoughts are quietly ushered through her mind, none given more attention than a passing glance.

Somewhere, deep inside, someone is screaming in fear at the numbness of her limbs and the fog spinning thicker and thicker behind her eyes, but she is ignored.

 

Amélie is suppressed. But she is aware.

 

She watches as she goes to her husband’s desk and gets his gun.

She watches as she puts the gun to his head.

She feels herself pull the trigger.

She screams, but the sound will not exit her throat.

She can only look at Gérard, still lying in their bed, hot blood beginning to run down his forehead.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

She wakes up, hand still closed around the gun that isn’t there anymore, screaming the sound she was unable to make then that she is all too free to make now.

She cries, professing her guilt to the night air, begging forgiveness from Gérard. She didn’t want to, she didn’t mean to, she is so sorry. She says it over and over like a prayer, curling up on her side, hugging her knees.

Hot tears leak from her eyes, a sharp contrast in temperature to her icy skin.

No matter how cold her heart beats, no matter how hard they try to dull them, her emotions still burn hot. The best they can do is keep them chained for a time, for the duration of special missions, but eventually they come out. There is no stopping them forever.

Sometimes she wishes they could make her numb to everything all the time.

Her mission state is a brief respite from the nightmares, the guilt, the memories, the emotions, the fear, the self-loathing.

Everything is so cut and dry.

Go here, do this.

If you do you are successful.

If you do not you are punished.

Away from her missions everything is so _messy_.

She feels the fear.

She remembers what she has done.

She is crushed by the guilt.

 

She tried to kill herself at first.

Talon didn’t like that.

 

She doesn’t try anymore, but sometimes she daydreams about it.

Slitting her wrists and bleeding out peacefully.

Hanging herself from a noose.

Watching the street zooming up to meet her.

 

It is a nice dream.

 

She knows these thoughts aren’t healthy.

She can’t do anything about it.

 

After last time they took her phone.

She was too scared, too desperate for comfort.

Now she has none.

Alone in her room, she lays there until morning, silently crying as she remembers all she has done and been made to do.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

In the morning she tries to die again.

It doesn’t work.

She is punished, stuck in an oxygen deprivation tank they use to train her lungs to require less air, though they turn down the airflow so she is on the edge of death with no hope of tipping the balance.

Her goal just out of reach. A creative torture.

She stays there for the rest of the day. She would scream if there was enough air for her to be able to.

 

Afterwards they interrogate her.

They try the words, the same ones they used on her that night so long ago.

She has gained enough control now to resist them, though it is a near thing.

They ask her who she was in communication with.

She tells them she was in contact with a freelance hacker, in an attempt to leak information. It is a lie, but it plays to their fears, so they swallow it like a bitter pill smothered in sugar.

They let her go afterwards. They think the words are enough to reassert their control over her. In the past they have been enough. No longer.

 

She leaves slowly.

Widowmaker always takes measured, careful steps.

To run would reveal that there is something more than the skin deep obedience.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

That night she is jolted awake from another nightmare, a nameless terrible amalgamate of her worst fears and most horrible memories.

 

She doesn’t sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving!

The next day Sombra is there.

She shows up periodically, doing odd jobs for Talon, hacking and stealing and breaking into files. She doesn’t believe in Talon’s cause but sees them as a good way to further her goals, so she works with them on occasion while hiding her own agenda.

Amélie knows of multiple times were Talon has gotten more information stolen then they’ve received from the purple clad hacker.

 

She is one of the few people Amélie would call a friend.

 

Sombra is one of the few people who uses the name Amélie, who knows there is more than the Widowmaker.

 

Today is different. Sombra is looking at her oddly, clearly wanting to speak to her.

At the earliest opportunity she directs Amélie out of the cafeteria, pulling her at a brisk pace to her temporary room.

Amélie tries to speak but is quickly silenced when Sombra raises a finger to her lips and gestures at the camera on the ceiling.

With a few quick taps on one of her ever-present screens Sombra deactivates every bug and camera in the room.

Amélie feels all the outside eyes watching her turn off and is shocked by how relieved she feels, to know she isn’t being monitored, at least for now.

Sombra reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small object, pressing it quickly into Amélie’s hand.

Amélie looks down at the phone in surprise, both at the gift and the reason for it.

Sombra reads her expression easily.

“Why do you think I’m here Araña? Talon wanted the best to take a look at who you’ve been talking to. Wanted to make sure that their Widowmaker wasn’t compromised.”

Amélie opens her mouth to speak, to ask what they know, but Sombra is already explaining.

“Relax, I lied through my teeth. It wouldn’t serve my purposes for Talon to know that their number one sniper was texting Overwatch’s poster girl.

Besides,” She smiles at the taller woman, eyes filled with a confusing mixture of love, kindness, jealousy and other emotions that are too distorted to read.

“I care about you. It’s nice to have a friend. You know, a  _ real  _ one.”

Amélie quietly snorts at the reference to Sombra’s various “friends” in high places.

Sombra mirrors the smile, though her eyes are still heavy.

 

“I do have one question though?”

She indicates that Sombra should ask.

“Why didn’t they catch you ages ago? I’ve seen the tapes from the last few weeks. Waking up screaming almost every night, going back to that exact same part of your room. It was really suspicious. Why didn’t they put two and two together?”

She lets out a quiet, cynical laugh.

“For starters, I always have nightmares, no matter how frequently they ‘treat’ me. The same thing with going back to the wall constantly. I often display signs of sleepwalking, usually repetitively. It helped to allay their fears.”

 

She can feel her grin harden with malice, with pain. She can see that it has not escaped Sombra’s notice.

 

“Besides, Talon is delusional. They think it is impossible that I could possibly have broken free from their control. They believe they are infallible, that I am unable to disobey an order. They forget that their favorite tool had free will once.”

Sombra nods her understanding, something dark and painful in her eyes, a reflection of her own.

 

“Be more careful this time. I made a few… modifications to this one, but it wouldn’t do to let Talon know that you’ve reestablished your link to the outside world. And if you ever need some privacy, I installed a little program of my own that should help… give you some space. Though I would recommend using it sparingly.”

Amélie’s eyes scan through the phone’s menu, noticing a purple box with Sombra’s signature calavera on it.

Sombra turns to leave, her purpose fulfilled.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Sombra doesn’t respond with words, but the message is clear all the same.

 

A long nailed finger hits a glowing purple screen and the eyes are back.

Amélie traces the square outline in her pocket with a single finger, pausing for a moment, overcome with emotion.

 

She follows Sombra back into Talon, slipping the Widowmaker mask back into place as she goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say there's going to be a delay between this chapter and the next one. Some stuff's going on in my life right now and I don't think I'll be able to find the time I need for it. Sorry, and I hope I won't be gone too long.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return

She can’t wait for the night.

She is so desperate to speak to her again that she can barely manage to keep the phone hidden from the camera.

She manages.

She knows what will happen if they find out again, how much worse her punishment will be.

They might even put her back into reconditioning.

Her nightmares could become real.

And there wouldn’t be anyone to comfort her then.

She’d be alone in her own private hell.

She forces herself to stop thinking about that.Those thoughts won’t help her, so it’s best to push them away.

 

It is finally time.

  
Moving slowly, carefully, she opens Sombra’s application, watching as the camera in the corner of the room is covered by a film of purple energy.

Barely able to contain herself she types out a quick message.

**Are you awake?**

It’s scarcely a few seconds later when she gets a reply.

**Oh my god are you okay?! I thought that they might’ve caught you or tortured you or something terrible! Don’t ever do that to me again!**

She stares at the words on the glowing screen and can’t stop herself from smiling.

Lena cares.

That’s enough.

**They discovered my phone.**

**Oh god!**

**Are you alright?!**

**How are you texting me now?**

**Do they know who you were talking to?**

**Oh god.**

She is quick to cut off the tirade of messages.

**It’s okay.**

**Sombra helped me. She covered up our messages and gave me this phone.**

**Why?**

**From what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen she doesn’t say hello without an ulterior motive.**

She is forced to concede the truth of that statement.

**Maybe she wants to ensure an ally.**

**But?**

**But I do not think so.**

**Shockingly enough, I think she actually cares about me.**

She feels dampness on her cheeks. Reaching up she realizes she is crying.

**That’s good to hear.**

**You deserve to have friends, people who care about you.**

**People who think you’re more than a thing to order around.**

**Wait…**

**What happened to you when they found out?**

**Don’t tell me they just let you off the hook.**

She was hoping this wouldn’t come up. If she is honest with herself though, she knows Lena won’t let her get away with hiding this.

**Not exactly, no.**

**What happened?**

She almost laughs bitterly but holds her tongue, long practice suppressing her emotions stops her.

**What do you think?**

**Torture.**

**Oh god.**

**I’m so sorry.**

**I wish I could help.**

Oh that fool.

**You are helping.**

**You are speaking to me like I am human.**

**You are someone safe.**

**Ironic given our relationship in the eyes of the outside world, isn’t it.**

**That’s not what I meant!**

**If I could stop it they’d never lay a finger on you again.**

There is a pause. Even though thousands of miles separate them, both feel how loaded this silence truly is.

**Is there anything else I can do to help?**

She lets out a quiet sigh. Doesn’t this foolish girl listen?

**You are doing it right now.**

**As I said, simply speaking to me is a gift.**

**It shouldn’t be!**

**God, I wish…**

**What?**

**I wish I could get you out.**

Amélie freezes, staring at those simple words. For a brief moment she allows herself to dream of escaping Talon. She could make her own decisions, live her own life. No torture, no pain. She could even fight back, but it would be her choice to do so.

She could meet Lena somewhere other than the battlefield, where she wouldn’t have to make a show of trying to kill her.

Or fight the programming telling her to actually killing her.

 

She clings to the fantasy for a minute. Maybe even two.

 

No.

 

Such dreams are nothing more than that. Dreams. Fantasy. A rêverie.

It does not do to dwell on thoughts like that.

 

She might start to believe they are possible.

 

With shaking hands she types out a reply, rewriting it multiple time as her fingers foul up the words.

**It’s useless to even imagine.**

**This is where I am and this is where I shall remain.**

**Don’t say that.**

**I have to.**

**Or I might start to believe I have a chance.**

**Hope is a nightmare.**

**They marked my arm to remind me of that.**

**I just…**

**Stop.**

**Please…**

**I cannot think about this now.**

**Alright.**

**You wanna talk about something else?**

**Please.**

**Alright, get this.**

**You won’t believe what Winston did on this last mission!**

She can practically feel Lena’s smile through the screen as the other girl rapidly types a rather humorous story involving her gorilla friend, several banana’s, a jumbo sized tub of peanut butter and a platoon of Talon troops.

Soon the talk of escape, and of futility, is in the past.

 

Neither of them forgot about it though.

 

They both realize the other is carefully ignoring the subject and they both accept it.

Amélie knows Lena well enough to realize that the subject has not been laid to rest, but for now she doesn’t care.

She is more than willing to let cheerful words chase away the darkness on the edges of her psyche.

They talk late into the night, both immensely happy for the company of the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, welcome back. It's been what, two weeks? Feels like longer, at least to me. I'm not gonna lie and say things are perfect on my end at the moment, but they've settled enough that I will most likely be back to posting at least slightly regularly, or that's the plan anyway. Also, I had this done and now seemed like a good day to post it, since it's a pretty important day in my life. 
> 
> I'm rambling aren't I?
> 
> Ah well, long story short it's good to be back.


	7. Chapter 7

**I need to speak to you.**

**What is it?**

**More bad dreams?**

**No.**

**I…**

**I visited his grave.**

**Who’s grave?**

**Gérard’s.**

**Oh my god!**

**Are you okay?**

 

**In truth, I do not know.**

**Seeing that gravestone hurt so much.**

**But I needed to do it.**

**This has been haunting me for so long.**

**I will never forget but I won’t be ruled by it.**

**Wow.**

**I can’t even pretend to understand what must be going through your head right now.**

**Do you even remember him clearly?**

**Sometimes.**

**Rarely when I am awake.**

**But I dream about him often.**

**He was a good man.**

**And I put a bullet in his skull.**

**It is not the kind of thing one forgets easily.**

**Do you wish you could forget him?**

**No.**

**That would dishonor his memory.**

**He deserves, deserved, better.**

**Better than me.**

**You really loved him, didn’t you?**

**I think so.**

**It is hard to recall.**

**My nightmares are more vivid than my daydreams.**

**I remember all the horrors.**

**I see them every night.**

**But I seldom manage to hold onto the good things.**

**God.**

**I just…**

**I don’t know what to say.**

**Other than to let you know I’m here if you need me.**

**Always.**

**Alright?**

**That is more than I could ask for.**

**It’s more than I deserve.**

**Shut up!**

**No it’s not!**

**You’ve been through so much.**

**You’ve been alone for so long.**

**You deserve to be happy.**

**Someone to talk to isn’t even that much to ask.**

**For me it is.**

**I do not deserve anything good.**

**You know me.**

**I am a killer.**

**There is enough blood on my hands to drown the world.**

**I do not even understand why you speak to me.**

**AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!**

**Stop talking like that!**

**You are not evil!**

**You don’t deserve to be alone and isolated forever!**

**You deserve as much love as anyone else!** **  
**

**Maybe more for what you’ve been put through.**

**Is that why you speak to me?**

**I talk to you because it’s** **_literally_ ** **the least I can do.**

**You deserve to be able to talk to someone.**

**Someone who will listen to you without running in fear or responding with false sympathy because they just can’t understand.**

**I’ve been there.**

**I never want to be there again.**

**I’m giving you what I can, no matter how insignificant.**

**I know I do not say this enough.**

**But thank you.**

**Sometimes I think you’re the only person who understands me.**

**We understand each other.**

**And besides, you’ve helped me through a fair share of sleepless nights too.**

**Yes.**

**I suppose I have.**

**Do you wanna talk some more?**

**There is nothing I’d enjoy more.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit different, since it all takes place over text. I thought about taking it out but decided to leave it. What do you guys think?


	8. Chapter 8

It is night time.

She blinks her eyes open.

She does not remember sleeping.

Looking around she realizes she is in her room. Checking the time in confusion, she notices her clock is displaying the wrong date.

Slowly, the pieces fit together and she realizes what has happened.

Frantically, she scrambles for her phone, only at the last second reminding herself to use Sombra’s app to disguise her actions.

Quickly, she types a message into the window, hoping to god she will receive a reply.

**Are you okay?**

The seconds stretch into an eternity.

Her heart is already frozen, but it feels like it has stilled beyond its unsustainable slowness.

She feels herself starting to crack apart, all the armor she wears melting away.

Tears prick her eyes.

It has happened.

Her worst fear.

 

And then, she receives a reply.

**Yeah**

She begins to breath again.

**What the hell was up with you?**

**Today, in Oasis.**

**You were…**

**I don’t even know!**

**Just blank!**

**What the hell is going on?!**

She is almost to relieved to explain what has happened.

What has gone wrong.

**They put me into my mission state**

**Your what?**

**They can never truly block my emotions.**

**Suppress them, but even that fades in time.**

**When they have a special task for me, they institute a short term neural block to certain mental processes.**

**In short, they turned off my emotions for that mission.**

**I don’t even remember it.**

**Thank GOD!**

The response confuses her. Why is this so wonderful.

She could have killed her and never even known it.

She could’ve ended up sitting there, waiting for a reply that would never come.

She waits for an answer.

**I thought they might’ve reconditioned you or broken you or hurt you**

**I didn’t even want to think that it might have just been you**

**Now I know**

**It wasn’t your fault**

**Any of it**

 

The full impact of those words sinks in.

 

A moment later the last three words are deleted, but it is already too late.

**Any of what?**

**Before I tell you, remember it wasn’t your fault**

**What isn’t my fault?**

**What did I do?!**

**You nearly killed me**

She stares at those words, and a tidal wave of horror crashes through her.

Like _this_ she would never do such a thing.

But when she is in her mission state, there is nothing she will not do, as long as Talon wishes it.

**But it’s okay**

**I’m fine**

**Don’t worry about it**

**How can you say that?**

**How can you be speaking to me?**

**I**

**I**

**I nearly killed you and I don’t even remember it.**

**I could’ve killed you and never known!**

**How can you still speak to me?!**

**I am dangerous to be near.**

**No!**

**No no no no no no no no**

**I won’t let you do this!**

**Do what?**

**Let you take the blame for the shit they’ve put you through**

**It may have been your hand on the trigger but it sure as hell wasn’t your will behind the bullet**

**You didn’t want to do it, it wasn’t even really you**

**That does not change the fact that it happened**

**No it doesn’t**

**And it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t do anything wrong!**

**It’s not**

**Your**

**FAULT!**

She can’t really register what she is reading.

After nearly dying, she is willing not only to speak to her almost killer but try and provide support.

What is wrong with this girl?

Is she even human?

**I do not agree with you chérie**

**Listen!**

**But…**

**I will not press this now**

**Can we please let sleeping dogs lie, for now**

**…**

**Alright**

Amélie knows the conversation isn’t over. 

Lena will not rest until she feels that she has helped to the best of her ability.

She means to save her.

Even if she is not worth saving.

 

… 

 

Shaking off those dark thoughts, she turns to the only light in her darkened room, and the only light in her life.

They talk until dawn, and nothing is spoken of blame or fault.

 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this a couple days ago so... whoops! I had some tests and projects coming due so it was one hell of a week for me. Luckily, winter break is about to start for me, so more time to write! Yay!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this, I'm sorry, I'm horrible.

Amélie lies in bed, keeping her breathing steady and relaxed.

She is not asleep.

She is afraid to sleep.

So instead she fakes it for the silent audience watching from her ceiling.

 

She shivers involuntarily, changing the full body tremor into a subtle shift, covering up her unintentional action while further building the falsehood she puts on display.

 

Her nightmares, her nighttime behavior. They are all signs that she is throwing off their programming.

She cannot go through reconditioning again.

 

She remembers it all, though she knows she’s not supposed to.

The lights, the sounds, the pain, the men and women around her watching it all.

It has been a long time since they last took her to that sterilized void and broke her mind open, choosing their favorite parts to keep and their least favorite to throw away.

 

It all returns, eventually.

 

She remembers her past existence, all the things she has done.

It all returns and haunts her in the night, guilt for actions she knows she isn’t entirely in control of.

The fact that she is forced to do such terrible deeds and that she would never do them voluntarily does not manage to lessen the weight on her mind.

She feels every death, another weight on her soul, another nail in her coffin.

 

She is not sure if she was religious before, but she knows that should Hell exist, it is where she is bound when she dies.

 

She accepts that.

 

Feels she deserves it.

 

She runs a hand gently up and down the edge of her phone, resting under her pillow.

She keeps it there when she sleeps now. It makes it easier to talk to her when the burden of her demons becomes too much to bear on her own.

 

No one in Talon dares to disturb her, not after she killed a man sent in to wake her. The higher ups found it funny, believing it was proof that their pet was as rabid as they wanted. In truth she hadn’t meant to. It had merely been a reflex action as she was torn from a particularly vivid memory of being kidnapped by Talon’s agents the first time. She had struck without realizing that the world around her was different than the one in her mind and that the man on the ground with his neck broken had done nothing more than tap her on the shoulder.

 

When no one was looking she cried for him.

 

She never even knew his name.

 

Asking would raise too many questions, so she remembers his face in lieu of a name.

 

At least until her memories are torn from their housing once again.

 

She clenches a hand down tightly around her phone, one of the edges digging into her hand with the force she is exerting.

 

Reconditioning is the worst thing she has ever experienced.

 

It is being unmade, everything about her twisted and reconfigured until she fits back into their plans. Every time they reel her back in it takes longer for her to break free. She fears that one day she’ll never break through the programs they instill in her.

 

She forces her thoughts away from reconditioning. Those thoughts hurt her, they are dangerous. She cannot afford to dwell on them.

 

Fingering the phone she considers texting her. She dismisses the idea.

She knows that Lena will answer. She always does, perhaps because she knows what it is like to be alone and afraid in the middle of the night.

But she doesn’t want to talk to her.

Not for her own sake.

 

For Lena’s.

 

Whatever it is they have, it is only temporary, can only be temporary. No matter how much she tries not to think about it, she knows the truth. One day she will be reconditioned again, and she and Lena will meet on the battlefield for the last time.

 

It has already nearly happened, when they put her in her mission state a few days ago. She nearly killed Lena. She cannot allow that to happen.

 

She desperately longs to speak to her, one of the few specks of warmth in her cold world, but she knows that she must keep her distance. Everyone who gets close to her, who she cares about, ends up dead.

 

All by her own hand.

 

Gérard, the man she loved, who she had adored more than any other.

Ana, the woman who taught her to shoot, her mentor.

Lena…

 

What is she?

 

On the battlefield they masquerade animosity, but here, in times like these, they share something different.

Combat is intimate.

This is more so.

 

When they fight she sees that the laughter is faked and forced.

But when they speak she sees what lies beneath.

They bear their souls to each other.

They’ve seen what the other fears.

She knows Lena better than anyone, and the same could be said of her.

 

So what does that make them?

 

Still fingering the phone, still debating with herself, the decision is abruptly made for her. A quiet buzz against her palm alerts her to the fact that she has a new message.

 

It can only be one person.

 

She slowly inches the phone out from underneath her pillow, confirming what she already knows.

**You awake?**

She stares at those words. She wants to answer desperately, wants to distract herself from the thoughts whirling round and round in circles in her mind. She wants to speak to her more than anything.

 

Abruptly, she realizes just what Lena means to her.

She cares about her more than anyone else in this world.

 

She…

 

She cannot bring herself to even think the words. They are too dangerous.

 

The same can be said of replying.

 

Carefully, moving slowly to avoid detection by the camera, she slides her phone back into place beneath her pillow.

Everyone she cares about gets hurt. She cares about Lena. So she must remove herself from Lena’s life. No matter the cost.

It is more important that she live.

 

And it will cause her less pain whenever things reach their final conclusion, as she is sure they will.

 

She feels a single pulse from the electronic device resting against her hand, another message. She forces herself not to retrieve her phone.

Another pulse.

And another.

They keep coming, a seemingly endless stream of texts.

She can imagine what they are saying, the worry they are expressing on her behalf.

Foolish girl.

She always puts others before herself.

It is time someone else put her first.

The messages keep coming.

 

Amélie does not turn the phone off.

Doing so would be wrong.

She is causing Lena pain with this action, and she cannot allow herself to forget that. No matter the good she is doing by hurting, she has caused too much pain to allow herself the mercy of ignoring it.

 

The texts keep coming, the steady pulse settling into something akin to rhythm, a heartbeat resting underneath her pillow, against her hand. 

 

She is holding Lena’s heart in her hands.

 

And she is allowing it to be broken.

 

Tears silently roll down her cheeks as she keeps her breathing steady, waiting for morning.

 

The texts don’t stop until after dawn breaks.

 

She does not sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry.

**You awake?**

**Hellooooooooooo**

**What’s goin on?**

**Are you there?**

**Amé, you’re starting to scare me a little bit**

**You usually answer by now**

**Has something happened?**

**Are you alright?**

**Did they take you back in for reconditioning?**

**Did they find your phone again?**

**Amé are you ok?**

**If you’re there answer me**

**Please**

**Amé?**

**Ok, I’m getting really freaked out now**

**Amé?**

**Please tell me you’re ok**

**You have to be ok**

**Amélie?**

**Please don’t tell me they found out**

**They can’t have**

**Not after all this time**

**Amé?**

**Amélie?**

**Oh god**

**Please no**

**Please be alright**

 

**Please**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I didn't mean to go this long without a chapter, life just completely blindsided me and I had basically no free time. Oh well.

If she had not spent the whole night awake, her phone vibrating would have woken her.

A familiar pain hits her heart, knowing who it has to be.

She pulls out her phone with care and scrolls through the alerts.

 

More than a dozen unread texts greet her, the same as they have every day for the last three weeks. Every letter seems to be imparting judgement on her, though a quick skim of the messages says that Lena hasn’t even thought that it is Amélie’s fault for not responding. 

Some texts ask if Talon has found her phone again, or if she’s been reconditioned again after so long. 

 

Some ask her what she did wrong and promise to fix whatever it is if she’ll just talk to her.

 

She keeps scrolling, not allowing herself the relief that ignoring Lena’s text would provide. Every word on the screen hurts to look at but she forces herself to anyway, not wanting to disrespect Lena by ignoring what she has done. 

Lena is hurting because of her. 

It would not be fair to pretend she did nothing just to spare herself the pain.

 

As she is about to return her phone to its spot underneath her pillow, something catches her eye.

A single message at the bottom of the screen, written in purple text, sent by someone using a skull as their profile picture.

**We need to talk.**

She stares at the message for a moment, taking time to let the violet words make their way into her sleep deprived brain, where their meaning finally registers.

 

Why does Sombra want to speak to her?

**What is it?**

**You.**

**I do not understand.**

**Talk to her.**

**Is it worth me asking how you know I’ve stopped?**

**Not really.**

**Fine.**

**I do not see how this concerns you.**

**And no.**

**It will only put her in danger.**

**I cannot lose her.**

**You should see what she’s been like the last few days.**

**If you were trying to keep her safe you failed miserably.**

**What happened?**

**Is she alright?**

**For now.**

**But she won’t be for long if this keeps up.**

**What’s going on?**

**I’ve been with Talon on an op or three recently and she was there on one of them.**

**Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but I could’ve killed her several times.**

**She’s basically in mourning right now.**

**She must think you’re dead, or worse, that Talon is knee deep in your brains right now.**

**It’s throwing her off her game.**

**She needs to speak to you.**

**How will that help?**

**Really?**

**How will knowing you’re not dead help?**

**Do you have any idea what you mean to her?**

**What does that have to do with anything?**

**And how would you know anyway?**

**Read my lips.**

**Worlds.**

**Best.**

**Hacker.**

**And you’re using a phone** **_I_ ** **gave you.**

**In hindsight that was a rather stupid question.**

**Yeah it was.**

**Now can we get back on topic?**

**I’ve read some of your texts.**

**Only some?**

**You don’t have to believe me, but I’ve only read a little, but even that’s told me a lot.**

**You two are basically a mutual support system.**

**Do you think you’re the only one who needs your midnight conversations?**

**I don’t know the girl personally or anything but I think you’re the only thing that’s been keeping her sane.**

**She’s actually kinda like you I guess.**

**What are you trying to say?**

**It’s not an insult or anything, just an observation.**

**You both put up a front to hide yourselves.**

**You fake the Widowmaker to hide from Talon.**

**She fakes being ok to keep the rest of her team going.**

**She hides it well but she’s got a lot of problems, that much is obvious from what I’ve read.**

**Another thing that’s clear is that you’ve been helping her deal with it.**

**Without you she’s breaking down.**

**I…**

**I know she is hurting.**

**But this will be better.**

**It’s better I leave her now, better I sever the connection now.**

**It will all end horribly someday, whether it be tomorrow or in a month.**

**I will not let her end up like the others.**

**Others?**

**The others I cared about.**

**Gérard, Ana, so many more.**

**All dead.**

**I can’t let that happen to her.**

**Ok, you’re probably right that this is going to end, and probably not well, but cutting ties like this is not the way to do it.**

**You two have something**

**Don’t ask me what, I’ve got no fucking clue, but if I were you I wouldn’t throw that away to save yourself the pain later**

**Besides, she’s not the only one who’s been off her game.**

**You’re starting to slip.**

**How much sleep have you gotten in the last two weeks.**

**None.**

**Why?**

**…**

**Your dreams?**

**Is there any point in asking you not to peruse my private messages?**

**I told you I’ve been sparing about it!**

**Listen. You’ve been afraid to sleep, but she helped you cope with your nightmares.**

**She didn’t make them disappear but she made things easier.**

**Am I wrong?**

**…**

**No.**

**Rhetorical question but ok.**

**You did the same for her idiota.**

**So you’ve gotta promise me something.**

**What?**

**Promise me you’ll talk to her.**

**If not for her sake for yours.**

**As much as it may surprise you, I care about you.**

**I want you to be okay.**

**You may be good at putting on the emotionless act but I can see through it.**

**You’ve been happier than I’ve seen you in a long time because of nothing more than talking to her.**

**And now it’s like someone took the wind out of your sails.**

**You miss her.**

**So talk to her.**

**…**

**I will.**

**I promise.**

Once she is sure Sombra is done speaking to her, she slides her phone back under her pillow.

She wants to text Lena now, but she can already hear the Talon base waking up around her. The clock reads 5:45. She’s out of time.

It will have to wait until nightfall.

 

She just hopes she will have the strength to go through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys appreciate the fact that Sombra's text was purple, that took me FOREVER to figure out. 
> 
> Also, as of posting this Midnight Messages is my second most popular story. I just want to stop and thank you all for reading. See you next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amélie speaks to Lena once again.

She stares at her phone, finger hovering over the send button.

This is… beyond description.

She desperately wants to speak to her, longs to have that connection once again.

Sombra’s message may have pushed her to break her silence, but if she is even a little honest, she has to admit that she didn’t fight back very hard. 

She didn’t want to.

 

She has missed her so much.

 

If Talon knew what she was feeling right now then reconditioning would be assured.

It seems like she is heading that way regardless.

 

She stares at the message that she has typed and retyped again and again, eventually settling on these few simple words to reestablish her link to Lena.

Those words do not scare her, they are barely more than a greeting.

But what she will say after is terrifying.

She refuses to lie to Lena.

Refuses to blame her silence on anything other then herself.

Lena deserves better than that.

That does not change the fact that telling her the truth could result in what she very nearly succeeded in doing.

 

She had already resigned herself to losing her, had already tried to end whatever it is they have.

 

If she goes through with this, then that might become the reality.

… 

… 

… 

Stalling isn’t going to help.

 

She hits send.

 

**I have something important to tell you.**

 

The reply comes barely seconds later, and then keeps coming.

**Oh my god are you okay?**

**What happened?!**

**You haven’t been talking!**

**Did they recondition you!**

**Did they find your phone!**

**What’s going on!!!!!!!**

Hands shaking slightly she types out a reply.

**None of those things happened.**

**I chose to stop speaking to you.**

It is almost as if they are in the same room. She can feel the disbelief, the shock, the betrayal, the confusion, as though it is being transmitted along the signal connecting their phones.

 

The response comes slowly, the words laden down by Lena’s confusion.

**Why?**

**Did I do something?**

**I swear to god, whatever it is, I am so sorry.**

**I’ll make it up to you, I swear.**

She blames herself.

Petit idiote.

She never sees the bad in others.

It is part of what makes her  _ her _ .

It is one of the reasons that they spoke at all, even after all of the horrors Lena had seen her commit and even more she had told her of.

 

Lena Oxton sees the good in others.

Whether it is there or not.

 

The problem with people like Lena is that when they are proven wrong it hurts all the more.

Amélie knows exactly how Lena’s view of her is about to change, how drastically these next words will change things.

Perhaps a lie would be kinder.

 

No.

**It was not you.**

**I stopped speaking to you of my own volition.**

The silence of her room is oppressive in the few second interim. She is sure Lena is staring at her phone in confusion, all that worry and fear slowly being replaced by hurt.

**WHY?!**

She knew it was coming.

It still hurts.

**I was trying to protect you.**

**Everyone who gets close to me, EVERYONE, ends up dead.**

**I don’t want to see you die chérie.**

**You are too important to me.**

She waits.

For a small eternity, she waits.

Her heartbeat is the only sound she hears, perhaps beating a touch faster than it does normally.

She agonizes in the silence.

And waits.

**I…**

**I need to go.**

**Don’t text me.**

**I just…**

**I can’t.**

It is what she expected.

Knowing the outcome ahead of time does not make it any easier to face the reality.

She types a reply, mouth dry, on the verge of tears.

**I understand.**

**And...**

**I am so sorry.**

She waits for a reply.

After a while it becomes abundantly clear to her that she will not be receiving one.

 

Sliding her phone quietly into hiding, she shifts onto her back and stares at the ceiling. The blank expanse of tile above her begins to blur and she realizes she is crying.

 

She closes her eyes, tears still leaking out from beneath her screwed together eyelids.

She wishes for sleep, for an escape.

Sleep does not come for her.

Even if it did, what escape would it provide?

Her demons dance behind her eyes as well as in front of them.

 

She lies awake, turning her face into the pillow to hide her tears from the camera.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one for now sorry to say. Hope it's ok regardless.

She lies awake, listening to the sound of her heartbeat and the familiar noises of night in the Talon base. 

She doesn’t even try to sleep.

No sense wasting time.

Instead she spends her nights thinking.

She thinks about a lot of things.

She thinks about the people she had killed.

The life she lost.

Talon.

Overwatch.

She thinks about Sombra.

  


Mostly she thinks about  her .

Even in her mind she doesn’t say her name. It is as painful as broken glass.

She wronged her, someone she truly cared about, someone she…

  


No.

  


That…  _ word _ ... 

Cannot be thought.

However much it hurts now, giving it a name will just amplify it.

  


Sombra had spoken to her yesterday, on one of her infrequent visits to the base, pulling her into a supply closet while hiding their movement from the cameras.

As soon as they were well and truly alone Sombra had hugged her.

She had told her that the Widowmaker mask was intact but underneath it she looked…

  


Heartbroken.

  


It was an accurate description.

  


Something inside of her had shattered.

She felt her absence like part of her mind had been shut down. Another part.

  


Even before, when she had chosen to cut ties, there was always a chance to reconnect.

Now she had burned that bridge.

She had to stop herself from laughing at the bitter irony.

In getting what she wanted she immediately wants what she once had.

  


Reaching a hand under her pillow she gently strokes her phone.

It has lain there dormant for the past several days.

She has resigned herself to that never changing.

Turning onto her side she stares at the blank wall, her troubled mind circling around and around behind her eyes.

  
She closes her eyes, not because she is going to sleep but because there is nothing for her to see.

She remains there until morning.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now been posting this story for two months. That's the longest ongoing story I've ever had. Also, as of posting this the word count of this story has crossed 9K, beating my previous longest story, Scars, which had around 8K. I am honestly so elated at this fact. Thank you all for coming with me on this wild ride of a fic, it's already been more than I could ever hope for.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this earlier but then things happened so it's coming out now instead. Enjoy!

Blinking her eyes rapidly, she forces her vision to refocus on the wall in front of her.

She is so very tired, but she cannot, will not, sleep.

With sleep comes dreams.

And even her sweetest dreams hold knives behind their backs.

 

The last time she fell asleep by accident she dreamed of _her_.

They met on the battlefield.

They fought.

And then everything went wrong.

The world exploded into fire and Talon marched forwards, capturing them both.

Guns are placed to both of their heads. She knows there is no escape.

 

She reaches out to her, hoping for some small comfort at the end of her life.

 

Lena turns away, refusing to take her hand.

 

The executioners fire.

 

After that she will not sleep.

 

It has started to affect her performance on the battlefield. Much longer and Talon will notice.

It does not matter.

Anything is better than seeing her demons.

  


Without preamble or warning, a quiet noise sounds from underneath her pillow.

She moves her hand underneath it, scarcely daring to hope.

She withdraws her hand. Her phone rests in it, the screen alight, a single unread message waiting for her.

 

**Hey, you awake?**

 

With those words, she knows she is forgiven.

 

Tears dampen her cheeks as she unlocks the phone and begins to type a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a bit short but hopefully the next one will make up for that. See you soon!
> 
> EDIT: As of posting this chapter Midnight Messages has crossed the 3,000 hits marker and become my most viewed story of all time. I'm completely blown away right now. I just want to take a moment to thank every single person who read this story and has kept up with it so far. Seriously, thank you all.


	15. Chapter 15

It is approximately 3 in the morning.

 For the first time in the last week she has managed to fall into the closest thing to actual sleep she experiences anymore, a hazy half consciousness that at least provides the illusion of rest.

 

Her tenuous hold on slumber shatters at once when she feels as much as hears a single buzz of vibration from beneath her ear.

Immediately she is alert, though to any observer’s that might be watching there has been no change.

Moving with careful, well practiced movements, she reaches beneath her pillow and opens Sombra’s application, only drawing her phone out from beneath her head when she sees the purple haze descend on the lens of the camera.

 **Are you there?**  

Another message appears before she can type a reply.

**I really need to talk to you**

And another.

**Please**

 

It is only after the third message arrives that she manages to hit send, the texts coming in too quickly for her to reply earlier. Something is wrong.

**I am here**

**Are you alright?**

**Honestly?**

**No**

**Absolutely not**

**What happened?**

**Ok**

**Here's whats happening**

**...**

**You know with the amount of times we’ve talked like this it’s just as hard every time**

**And I want to tell you**

**I’m sitting here holding my phone and I desperately want to tell you but I just can’t**

**Guess I’m just a coward haha**

It’s something big. Lena is shaken, right down to her core.

She wishes she could do more.

But she will do what she can.

**You are not a coward**

**No one who knows you would ever think that**

**You are one of the bravest people I have ever known**

**And I do not think you weak for having difficulty with this**

**I know exactly what this is like**

**Remember?**

**Yeah I know**

**I just hate being like this**

**I feel useless and I feel like a burden and it’s not fair that I should have to make you deal with my bullshit**

**Maybe it would be better if I just shut off my phone right now**

Lena spends so much time helping others. She is always there to lend a hand to help, or an ear to listen, or a shoulder to cry on. But she always seems to have trouble accepting help for herself.

She responds without having to think, hoping that Lena hasn’t already shut her out.

She does not want her to have to be alone.

**LENA!**

**You are not weak**

**You are not a burden**

**You are not hurting me or doing anything bad to me**

**I am HAPPY to be here for you however I can**

**SO DON’T YOU DARE TURN OFF YOUR PHONE!**

**Understood?**

The answer is some time in coming.

**I guess**

It’s not a no. That’s good enough.

**Do you want to talk about what happened or would you prefer to change the subject?**

**I think I want to tell you about this**

**As long as you’re sure I’m not being a burden**

Her heart aches, for this girl who gives so much to everyone that there is nothing left for herself.

But so long as she is here, that will change.

**I am sure**

**Alright**

**Here goes**

**...**

**And don’t ask me if I want to change my mind because I just might take you up on that and I want to get this out**

**Just give me a minute**

She quickly deletes the text she was about to send that said just that, then does as she has been bid.

An answer is not long in coming.

**You know those dreams were you wake up but you’re still dreaming and you’re not sure what’s real and what’s just another dream?**

She shivers involuntarily. She has had those, but they are blessedly rare. Never knowing what is real… it is all too familiar to her.

**Yes**

**That’s kinda what it was like**

**The Slipstream**

**I’d wake up somewhere in space and time and not be sure if it was real or if I was just dreaming**

**Sometimes**

**It’s still like that**

**Sometimes I wake up and it feels like I might still be there, that this is all just a dream**

**That I’m gonna wake up back there**

**And I can’t do that**

**I can’t**

**It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever felt**

**There were times where I completely lost myself**

**Like I didn’t exist**

**And sometimes it was just me and the rest of the world was gone**

**And sometimes I’d be everywhere at once**

**And I hope to god that this isn’t just a good dream because I just can’t Amé**

**I just can’t**

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know if there is anything she can say.

She tries anyway.

**Lena**

**This is not a dream**

**You got out**

**You’re okay**

**I promise**

**But if this isn’t real I might wake up and you’ll be gone**

**I can’t lose you Amé, I just can’t**

**I don’t know what I’d do**

**You won’t have to find out**

**I will always be here**

Sometimes a lie is easier than the truth.

Sometimes a lie is a mercy.

**Thank you**

**I wish I could hug you**

**I do as well**

**Suppose I’ll have to settle for punching you next time I see you**

**Not too hard please**

**My ribs are still bruised**

**Sorry**

**I can practically feel you smiling**

**Whoops :)**

She can practically see the tears in Lena's eyes as well. They do not diminish the smile. They highlight it.

 

There is a pause, but not an uncomfortable one. If they were together it would be a comfortable silence. Even with the distance separating them, both feel some semblance of peace.

**Are you feeling any better?**

**Yes and no**

**Truth be told it never really goes away**

**It just gets better and worse**

**But has it lessened?**

**Yeah**

**I think so**

**Thanks Amé**

**There is no need to thank me**

**I am just doing what I can**

**Someone needs to look after you, especially if you’re going to make such a mess of things**

**I really wish I could deny that**

**You wanna talk some more?**

**Absolutely**


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp time to post another chapter. It hasn't been that long right?  
> *Looks at calendar.*  
> Well.  
> Shit.

“Mission report.”

 

The words issue from a shadowy figure sitting at a long table in front of her. The voice’s pitch and tone oscillate and warble strangely, a synthesizer disguising the true sound of the figures speech.

 

She blinks, confused. She looks around her. The walls are metal, the doors bolted, the guards beside her as foreboding as the rest of the room. Most terrifying of all is the line of silent figures, each indistinguishable from the others, anonymity shrouding them from her sight.

 

She does not know how she got here.

She does not know who these people are.

She does not understand what is happening. 

 

“Mission report.”

The voice rings out again and she jumps slightly at its suddenness.

“Where am I?” she asks.

“Mission report,” is all the reply she receives.

“What is going on?”

The figure at the head of the table looks past her, to the back of the room.

 

“Doctor, I was under the impression that your little pet project was supposed to be responsive to commands. What’s the matter?” That strange voice warbles through the air, it’s mismatched tone still managing to sound sinister and hard, uncaring.

 

A pet project.

The words carry with them a certain weight, a certain truth.

Pet…

  
  


Another voice answers, this one undisguised, ringing loud in the silent space, a touch of arrogance coloring the cold tones.

“Some issues are to be expected. After all, this was Widowmaker’s first test in the field. Give me some time to tinker with her programming and I’ll be able to deliver everything I promised.”

 

Widowmaker.

She has heard that name before, in a whisper threading its way through her consciousness. It is hazy, but she remembers a feeling of horror, pain and unbridled terror.

 

“Who are you people!” The words come out louder then she meant them, but now she is afraid. With every second that passess she remembers more, fragment after fragment falling into place with all the finality of a ticking bomb hitting zero.

 

The doctor had mentioned a first field test.

She remembers going home, answering the phone, and then…

And then…

 

“What did you do to me?! What did you do to Gérard?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

 

Without even a word needing to be spoken the guards have hold of her, clutching her tightly, pulling her backwards.

 

She screams, her vision going red, and suddenly one of the guards is on the ground and the other is backing away from her. The one on the ground has had his neck broken. She can see bone emerging from his collar, his shirt starting to stain red with blood.

 

She is crouched low, her pulse thundering so hard in her ears that she can’t think, can’t plan, can’t do anything but react. When the other guard comes close enough she moves without thinking about what she’s doing or how she knows to do it, simply letting the lethal movements flow through her limbs like the routines she performed on stage.

 

The other guard is down. Her pale hands are stained red with the blood of both men.

Not long ago she had never taken a life. Now she has killed three.

And then suddenly there are more guards, more and more, too many to fight.

 

She tries anyway.

 

They pin her down and begin to drag her from the room.

She hears the doctor speaking again, moments before the heavy doors slam shut.

“Are you satisfied with my  _ pet _ now? I thought you’d appreciate her a bit more… rabid.”

 

The figure behind the desk laughs, voice now undisguised, rich and deep and cold.

 

The guards continue forcing her along, and somehow she knows where they are taking her.

To a white void full of hard light and soft whispers and unfeeling study and more pain than any one person should ever know.

 

They are leading Amélie to her execution.

◇ ◇ ◇

When she awakens it is not with the violent upheaval she felt then, years before.

Instead, she wakes up sharply, but silently, invisibly. The fear of that moment, the pain of realizing what was happening to her is still fresh, but she keeps it suppressed, for now at least. The observers won’t notice her awakening. She has far too much practice keeping her breathing regular and slow, long months of feigning sleep having lent her the skill.

She does not wish to take the chance however, and slips a hand carefully under her pillow and activates Sombra’s app to disable the camera in her room. Once that is done she sits up fully in bed, pulling her phone out from beneath the sheets, cradling it in her hands gently.

Opening up a chat window she sends a quick message. She is not desperate for comfort, not like she has been on other, more tumultuous nights, but she would be lying if she said she did not hunger for company and solidarity.

**Would you mind terribly if I sought you out as a source of companionship?**

A minute passes before she gets a reply.

**I have absolutely no complaints**

**Actually I was about to text you**

**It appears we were fated to speak tonight chérie**

**Yeah or we’re both just really predictable**

**Perhaps**

**Maybe we should change that then**

**If we get too predictable we might be caught**

**That would not end well**

**Good point**

**But do you actually think that you could stop for any meaningful amount of time?**

**Even if it was to throw them off**

**I don’t think I could**

**And I honestly don’t want to try**

**No**

**I don’t think I could**

**Truth be told**

**I need this**

**I need you**

**Aww Amé :)**

**Believe me the feeling is mutual**

**I’m not sure what I’d do without you**

**You would go on**

**You would live**

 

One day she will have to. Lena will have a chance to retire, to settle down, so long as she does not meet her end. 

She knows no such option exists for herself. 

One day she will be killed, or outlive her usefulness, or perhaps she might succeed in suicide after all this time. 

But her life will always end the same way.

 

And Lena will be left alone.

 

The thought brings a surge of something hot and bitter into the pit of her stomach.

It takes her a brief moment to realize that she is angry. She is no longer content with that fate. 

The thought of leaving Lena to spend her sleepless nights all alone, to truly lose her… 

 

She pushes down the anger, locks it away with everything else long habit has kept her from feeling.

She fears what this passionate fury means. It is rather telling after all.

She pushes that thought down too.

It is just as dangerous as the emotions.

 

In the time she has been sitting there staring uncomprehendingly at her phone, new messages have arrived from Lena.

 

**I don’t even want to think about it**

**I’d rather just pretend that we can go on like this forever**

**…**

**Maybe with a little less bodily harm**

**A little**

**…**

**Hey Amé**

**You alright?**

**Something going on over there?**

She gets busy typing a reply before Lena can begin to worry more.

**I am fine**

**Sorry**

**Just got lost in thought**

**It happens**

**Sometimes I am such a space case you have no idea**

**I have some idea**

**You have managed to steer some of our conversations in some very interesting directions without seeming to have any regard for such trivial things as a logical chain of thought**

**I can only imagine what it's like actually being inside of your head**

**Rude :P**

**I can’t help it if I think faster than I can type**

**I am only teasing chérie**

**Besides, I’ve gotten used to your scatterbrained ways by now**

**I repeat**

**Rude**

**:P**

**:P**

**I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you use an emoticon!**

**You are a bad influence on me**

**Then what does that make you to me?**

**I’m wounded that you would even insinuate such a thing**

**Insinuate?**

******Wasn’t I clear enough?**

**You’ve been a worse influence on me then I have on you.**

**There**

**Can we simply agree that we are equally horrible role models and move on**

**I guess I can agree to that**

**Thank goodness**

They banter back and forth like that for another hour or two before wishing each other a good morning (it is too early to be called night anymore) and leaving the other to their rest. Amélie replaces her phone beneath her pillow, settling herself under the covers before turning off Sombra’s app. As she feels the eyes come back on she shifts slightly, her own eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

 

She slips off into a gentle slumber, and for once her dreams are blessedly empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to come out, life's been really hectic for me and my writing's kinda been suffering for it. Luckily I've got most of the pressing issues at least a little bit settled so hopefully I won't be going so long without an update in the future.
> 
> See you guys in the next chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could never end any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is another chapter I should apologize for.
> 
> Sorry.

Her mouth is dry.

Her heart is pounding.

She is afraid.

This time, it is not a nightmare.

This time, the fear is part of this very moment.

There will be no respite provided by waking up.

 

At the very least, having that certainty will make things easier.

 

She sits up in bed, back against the cool metal wall behind her.

In full view of the camera, she pulls her phone out from underneath her pillow, even waving it in front of the unmoving lens a few times.

 

It’s not like it matters anymore.

 

Not bothering to use Sombra’s app, she brings up the messenger window she has used so much within the last year, and begins the last conversation she will ever have with Lena Oxton.

**We must talk**

**Now**

**What’s up?**

**Trouble sleeping?**

**No**

**Something so much worse**

**Tell me what happened**

**I overheard one of the doctors talking today**

**They are going to bring me in for review tomorrow**

**And after that they will put me through reconditioning**

**A hard reset**

**Whatever free will I have managed to gain since the last session will be wiped away**

**It will all be gone**

**NO!**

**We can stop this, we can fix this**

**We can figure out a way to bring you back from it**

**We can save you!**

**No**

**You cannot**

**It is useless to even pretend**

**NO!**

**I won’t accept this**

**I can’t accept this**

**I won’t allow someone I care about to be taken from me again!**

**I swear to god Amé, I will find a way to save you**

**Do not be foolish**

**I died long ago**

**There’s nothing for you to save**

**We should never have even begun to speak**

**Nothing will ever change**

**I will always be enslaved to Talon and you will always fight opposite them**

**It is just the way of things**

**Amélie**

**After tomorrow, if we meet in the field, do not try to speak to me, do not have mercy**

**I will have none**

**I won’t even know you beyond a mission parameter**

**Please**

**If we meet on the battlefield**

**Do your best to kill me**

 

**NO!**

**I won’t!**

**I can’t!**

**There has to be something we can do!**

**I’ll talk to Winston, he’ll figure something out, we’ll get you out from under Talon’s thumb**

**Stop trying to give us hope**

**There is NOTHING to be done!**

**I cannot be saved**

**You cannot save me**

**There is no way out**

**I can’t accept this!**

**I won’t!**

**It does not matter if you accept it**

**It is what is going to happen regardless of what you want to believe**

**I only contacted you to warn you**

**To make you understand why I would no longer respond to your or recognize you in the field**

**…**

**I am saying goodbye**

**No**

**Amé…**

**I love you**

 

She stares at those words.

Those three little words.

 

Neither of them has said it.

Neither has dared.

 

She knows the truth behind them, the depth of Lena’s feelings communicated in months of texts and fleeting contact in pitched battles. Of secrets shared and exchanged and continued communication regardless of the fragility of the other. They had been there for each other.

 

And even though she will not allow herself even to think it, she knows that she feels the same.

**I…**

**I cannot say it**

**I cannot leave you like this**

**Be here one day and gone the next knowing I left this here to linger**

**But you know exactly how I feel**

**You know me better than anyone**

**I wish I could say that I’ll miss you**

**But there will be not be enough of me left to do so**

 

**Goodbye Lena**

Staring up at the camera on her ceiling, she slowly raises her hand skyward, and hurls her phone against the opposite wall.

It cracks apart and she follows it, lifting a chair and smashing the scattered remains over and over and over again, until not even scrap metal is left.

 

They may take her.

But they will not have Lena.

 

Returning to her bed, she looks once again at the camera, still watching her with an unblinking gaze.

 

Her heart fills with disgust, anger, fear, and more than anything, loss.

She flips the camera off, then turns on her side and stares at her bedside table, watching the illuminated numbers on her clock slowly tick by, waiting for the morning.

 

She does not sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: After posting this Midnight Messages capped 4000 hits. Four. God. Damn. Thousand.
> 
> Just.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Thank you all.


	18. Fanart By IcyRain_Hollows/Arashi_Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit different, mostly because it's not a chapter but a drawing. This absolutely AMAZING piece of art was done by IcyRain_Hollows also known as Arashi_Rain. I completely loved it and they agreed to let me post it here so you guys could see it too!
> 
> Here are some links to their different accounts:
> 
> AO3-  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyRain_Hollows/pseuds/IcyRain_Hollows
> 
> Tumblr-  
> http://arashi-rain.tumblr.com/
> 
> Instagram-  
> https://www.instagram.com/arashi_rain/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first piece of fanart I've ever received based on one of my fics amd I am completely freaking out right now! 
> 
> Once again big thanks to Arashi_Rain for both drawing this amazing piece and letting me post it. You're awesome.


	19. Chapter 19

Where is she? What is happening?

Around her people move in a flurry of activity, white coated men shouting out words that make no sense to her.

Everything is pure white and brilliantly lit. Sterile.

  
  


_ She takes it all in. Her mind is slow to register information, but a deep sense of familiarity fills her. _

  
  


Across the room someone moves towards a set of controls she hadn’t noticed before. Leading away from the panel is a wire, snaking its way across the floor, up the chair she is strapped to and beyond where her eyes can see, presumably to whatever object is resting on her head.

  
  


_ She knows exactly what is going to happen next. The man at the controls will look to the woman and then they will begin. She realizes that this is a dream. The thought gives her strength. _

  
  


The man in front of the console flips two switches and holds his hand above a button, watching someone standing off to the side, waiting for confirmation. The woman he is watching holds up her hand, signifying he should wait.

  
  


_ Her mind freezes with fear. She has dreamed this so many times, and it is always terrifying, but this is different. _

 

_ This is not the way it should be happening. _

  
  


The woman walks over to her with slow, deliberate steps.

She keeps her eyes locked with Amélie’s, an almost predatory smile on her face.

In a moment the woman is standing next to her, that horrible grin still fixed in place.

“If you tell us who you were in contact with, I'll have them go easy on you.”

 

In that instant, she remembers. The night before, her final goodbye to Lena, smashing her phone, awaiting the morning and…

 

Reconditioning.

 

This time… 

It is not a dream.

This is real.

 

As the realization finally hits her, she feels tears forming in her eyes.

 

But not for herself.

 

She is afraid that she will never speak to Lena again, and what might happen if they are to meet after this.

 

Amélie can see it in the other woman's eyes. She thinks that she has won, that she will get all the information she seeks and more, enough to satisfy whoever ranks above her. She thinks her tears are a sign of weakness, a sign that she will break.

With a quick and decisive motion, she lifts her head as far as she can with the straps tying it down and spits in the woman’s face. She smiles a grim smile as the woman lurches back with a noise of surprise and disgust.

“You may do whatever you want to me,” Amélie says, knowing that these might very well be the last words she speaks with a mind that is her own. After this, they will bury her deep. Return might be impossible. So she will make it count. 

“But you will not hurt the ones I care about.”

 

The woman looks at her, wiping spit from her eye with a disgusted look on her face. Amélie can’t help but feel a deep satisfaction at that.

" _We_ might not hurt them, but after we’re done I think you’ll find that we won’t have to.  _ You _ will do it for us.”

Before anything more can be said she turns to the man still ready at the controls and makes a quick motion with her hand.

 

An instant later the world dissolves into an endless sea of pain, unbridled and unending.

She screams, the pain just as sharp as it always is in her dreams, though there is something more there too. It dispels any doubts as to whether this is real or not.

Even as her world fades from stark white to a pain-tinged black, she feels proud.

 

They will not hurt Lena through her.

  
  
  


As long as she is herself.

 

 

 

 

However long that lasts.


	20. Chapter 20

They continue to push her until she loses consciousness, and a fresh wave of agony is waiting for her when she reawakens.

They throw everything they have at her, every technique, every torture, all of her worst nightmares made real once again.

Partly it is to ensure their success, but she knows that some of it is spite too. A way of saying “This is all the reward you receive for your rebellion. Nothing more than agony and torment. And what did you accomplish? Nothing.”

 

She doesn’t care.

 

Every breath of air untainted by their hand, every thought she was able to snatch away from their control of her mind, was worth it.

 

This is not the first time she has been reconditioned. She tries not to think about the fact that it will not be her last. 

 

They have never been this bad before, never this actively torturing. Every time before this, there was an undercurrent of study, of science. It was mechanical.

This is pure fury, and it is all directed at her.

 

She would scream in fear and pain, but her voice stopped working hours ago.

 

And the agony still will not end.

 

She slips in and out of that room, but what she sees when she leaves is just as painful.

Her tormented mind sees Lena, sees the two of them meet on the battlefield, sees their dance end.   


A bullet between the eyes.

SMG fire riddling her body.

One of her own bombs detonated underneath her body.

Her accelerator destroyed, with Widowmaker standing over her, watching as Lena claws at the world around her for something to hold onto.

 

After that, the pain is almost welcome.

Nothing could hurt more than the nightmares her fevered mind produces.

Nightmares that might become real.

 

She wakes up and they are still there, the pain is still there, that little voice trying to unmake her is still there, the lights are still there.

They are going to break her.

Everyone in that white room knows it.

Amélie knows it too, but she fights tooth and nail against it as they try to unmake her again.

She claws for her sanity, working to keep any free will she can, but her efforts are in vain and she knows it.

Her mind is on the cusp of breaking.   


She can feel it.

A little more pushing and she almost welcomes it.

Anything to make it all end.

 

She tries to push back those traitorous thoughts but her resolve is weakening as her sanity goes.

And the less sanity she retains, the more reality becomes unhinged.

 

She sees things she half thinks are dreams. Impossible things, wonderful things, terrible things.

She laughs as she sees the gorilla performing a surprisingly decent shuffle.

The laugh dies in her throat as the world bends around her and the faces of the doctors around her become kill after kill after kill, every mission she has ever completed. 

Some stand out boldly, Ana and Gérard chief among them. But there are just so many. They reach for her, clawing at her with dead hands, staring at her with dead eyes.

She screams, pulling at her restraints, trying to get away from their grasping claws. She screams her grief and her guilt into the white room, though even that is fading as her mind grows weak and confused.

 

Something else is gaining force, something dark and malevolent and freezing cold with malevolence and an intense, implacable apathy. 

She puts up barrier after barrier, trying to keep it at bay.

It doesn’t bother to break through, instead waiting and watching as her own defenses fail her as she weakens further.

She can feel the laughter in its presence, its amusement at her attempts at self preservation.

In a new fit of madness she sees it beside her.

She sees herself, an obedient puppet with dead eyes and steady hands. The thing turns to look at her, giving her a cruel demented smile. It takes aim with its rifle and she knows that someone she cares about has just fallen dead, blood dripping from the hole in their forehead. 

It is everything Talon wants and more.

Everything they want her to become.

She would be sick if she hadn’t lost the contents of her stomach hours ago.

 

Then it is gone and the room dissolves into the cosmos, galaxies and stars swirling around her.

She cries from the beauty of it, of this beautiful world she has lived in until now.

The world she might be leaving behind.

The stars are ripped away and she is back in that room, and the pain is back, just as sharp.

She simply sags backwards.

There is not enough of her left to scream.

 

The scene changes again.

 

The doors have been blasted open. Men, women and omnics have entered the lab, killed the guards and imprisoned the technicians.

She realizes then that the pain, the lights, that insidious voice, it has all stopped.

 

She has forgotten what it is like to not feel such pain.

 

A figure pulls away from the crowd of blue-garbed intruders.

Her outline is hazy, as are all of the strange people, but as she slowly approaches Amélie knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is all just another hallucination.

Lena reaches out a hand, gently cupping the side of her face.

Her mouth moves, saying words Amélie cannot hear over the buzzing filling her head. Tears roll down Lena’s face.

 

She desperately wants to comfort her, to tell her it’s alright, but she can barely keep her eyes open.

She tries. Even though this isn’t real, it’s still a beautiful delusion. She wants to hold onto it for as long as she can.

Fear lights in Lena’s eyes as she sees Amélie’s eyelids starting to slide shut. From the shape of her mouth it is clear that she is shouting, beckoning the strangers over to her.

 

Amélie doesn’t care.

She is too weak now to care.

 

Using what little strength she has, she moves her hand, grasping for Lena’s.

 

Lena understands, slipping her hand into Amélie’s and squeezing tightly.

 

Amélie smiles as the world around her fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say something here...
> 
> ...I've got nothing.
> 
> EDIT: Midnight Messages just broke 5,000 hits. I can't even process that. Thank you all.


	21. Chapter 21

As she feels herself reclaiming consciousness once again she braces herself for the pain, the lights, the sounds; all the things she knows are waiting for her.

After a few seconds she thinks that they are waiting for her to fully return to consciousness before beginning again.

After a minute she wonders if they are taking a break. Or preparing a new method of torment.

After ten minutes pass with nothing, she opens her eyes, the fear of the unknown overriding the fear of what they will do to her.

Besides, they will do it anyway, so why should she let them keep her in suspense.

 

It takes her a moment to register the fact that there are no lights, no doctors.

Reaching up to her head she discovers that their machinery has been removed. 

In doing so she discovers that her arms are no longer restrained.

Sitting up cautiously, she examines the small room she has found herself in.

 

Within the first instant of inspection, it becomes apparent that this room is not part of a Talon base.

 

The customary iconography is missing, the garish T insignia that anoints every wall of every complex. The layout, which is always precisely the same in every room in every barracks, is wrong. There is a window leading outside, though it is tiny and heavily fortified, preventing entry or exit. The door bears the same protective measures. The wall parallel to the bunk she had woken up on is a piece of darkened glass, hiding whatever, whoever, is on the other side.

 

This is a prison cell.

 

Any lingering doubts about that fact are dispelled when she sees herself in the one way mirror. A garish orange jumpsuit bearing a long serial number is now on her body in place of her mission suit, with a familiar insignia over the left breast.

If she was standing she would have sat down to prevent her knees from giving way beneath her.

Overwatch.

Somehow, she is in an Overwatch containment facility.

 

She leans back against the wall of her cell, forcing herself to take deep, slow breaths, trying to digest all of the new information.

One thought however, is so powerful that it overrides all of the others.

She is a prisoner in an Overwatch facility.

Which means, somehow, miraculously, Talon no longer has control over her.

 

She cannot stop herself.

She cries.

 

For the first time in a very long time, they are tears of joy.

◇ ◇ ◇

As minutes stretch into hours, she begins to think more about what has happened, and more importantly, how any of it is possible.

 

Somehow, it would seem, Overwatch broke into Talon’s primary research base. They fought through layers of defenses, including some of the best military grade security systems on the planet and one of the most highly trained private armies in the world, all to achieve some goal of theirs that she could not possibly fathom.

And in the process, they found her and took her back with them.

 

With that thought, it finally hits her how impossible that truly sounds.

 

She is one of Talon’s deadliest weapons. She is responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths, civilian and otherwise. She killed Ana Amari, one of Overwatch’s founders.

So why would they imprison her instead of simply putting a bullet between her eyes while she was unconscious? It doesn’t make sense. Every single member of Overwatch believes she is nothing but a cold blooded killer.

 

Her thoughts drift, to conversations well after the witching hour, talks to ward off the demons that waited for both of them in the darkness.

She amends her earlier statement. Every member of Overwatch except for one.

 

And, quite possibly, she now owes Lena Oxton her life.

◇ ◇ ◇

As more time passes she begins to cautiously move about the room.

After a little experimentation, she discovers that her body is in surprisingly good shape.

After the hours of torment Talon put her through, the only explanation is that the Angel must have repaired her.

But why?

After hours of deliberation, she has finally come to the conclusion that Overwatch most likely recovered her for no other reason than to try her for her crimes, that is, before they execute her. That was how their morality worked, right? Justice and honor, innocent until proven guilty.

Like anyone would ever believe her innocent.

 

Except for Lena.

 

But it doesn’t matter if Lena knows the truth. Her crimes, the atrocities she has committed, they are more than enough to condemn her.

Honestly, she doesn’t blame them.

Moving around the cell, she slowly creates a path.

 

Past the cot, around to the mirror, past the window and back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

 

There is nothing she can do but wait.

 

Sometimes, she looks at the mirror, wondering if someone is watching her pace.

What do they see?

Do they see a guilty woman, trapped, looking for a way out?

Do they see a killer, planning her next move?

Do they see a Talon Agent, plotting how to report back to base?

Do they see a woman who is scared and confused, who half believes this is all another dream?

 

Has Lena come and checked on her?

 

She continues round and round and round, occasionally flipping the direction of her pacing for no other reason than to alleviate boredom. Her thoughts follow her feet, going round and round with her in her endless circles.

 

Unfortunately, she has no other option but to wait.


	22. Chapter 22

Eventually, having exhausted both her small cells interesting features and herself through her continuous pacing, she returns to her bunk, laying flat for no other reason than for a change of scenery.

 

She is surprised to be woken up by someone knocking against the wall next to the door. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep after, well, everything, especially in the middle of the base of a force whom she had been on the opposite side of the battlefield with for the last few years.

 

Turning to examine her visitor (guard? keeper? jailer?), she is greeted by the sight of a man wearing a battered cowboy hat adorned with the old Blackwatch logo, a half burned cigarillo dangling from his lips. A cybernetic arm glows faintly on one side of his body, his organic arm resting atop a large revolver attached to his belt.

 

She recognizes him. The cowboy, Jesse Mccree. She watches him carefully, waiting to see where she stands with him at this time. This situation could go any number of ways, as far as him escorting her out of the room or simply drawing his gun and ending her life.

 

Instead, he pulls his stub of a cigar from his mouth, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking.

 

“Some folks ‘round here have been itchin’ to talk to ya.”

 

She is cautious, though the lack of any gunfire does provide a small amount of optimism. A very small amount.

 

“Then why have I been waiting here for the last few hours.”

 

That earned a quiet chuckle from the cowboy.

 

“It took ‘em that long to convince everyone that our best option wasn’t just to put you six feet under and save the trouble. Your arrival caused a lot of upheaval.”

 

That isn’t surprising. She can only imagine how much her presence must have destroyed what could be called normal life here, wherever here was.

 

“So, what happens now?” she asks. It’s better than staying in this empty room, never sure whether or not there are eyes on her.

 

“Now?” he replies. “Now you come with me,” He pulls a pair of handcuffs from a pocket. “And we try and figure out what the hell we’re gonna do with ya.”

 

She nods quiet ascent. The handcuffs were expected. She’s rather surprised not to have woken up in whatever technologically enhanced version of a straight jacket is deemed “humane” these days. 

 

It doesn’t make feeling the cool loops of metal click into place around her wrists any easier.

 

Even though she spent the last few hours alone in a prison cell, it only now truly sinks in that she is a captive, and that her captors would be more than happy if she was dead.

 

The cowboy appears satisfied, and she almost thinks she detects a quiet happiness that his gun has not proven to be necessary. The fact that his arm hasn’t yet moved from its place on the grip does not mislead her into thinking he trusts her. She is still very much a prisoner, and a dangerous one at that.

 

Mccree gestures towards the door with one hand, a kind gesture that masks the command behind it.

 

Taking a breath to steady herself, she walks from her cell, head held high, into whatever may come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short, sorry about that.  
> See you guys soon.


	23. Chapter 23

Walking through the hallways of the Overwatch base, hands cuffed behind her, an armed and more than capable escort following a short distance behind, she tries not to think about what her every step is bringing her closer to.

Presumably, she is about to be judged, and whatever verdict Overwatch reaches will most likely spell her doom.

She tries not to focus on the slim chance at salvation.

Hope is dangerous, now more than ever.

 

Following the quiet directions on where to turn and which passage to take, she is thankful for the cowboys mannerisms. She is a prisoner, indisputably, but Mccree is sticking to the letter of whatever laws Overwatch follows. He has her in simple handcuffs, allowing her to lead their path through the facility, and while she is sure he is keeping a hand near his weapon at all times, he is making an effort to act as though he is simply directing her rather than escorting her. 

That kindness, even if it might seem small, means a lot to her. It means that at least one other member of Overwatch does not view her as a cold blooded killer, at least not in totality.

Mccree has made the conscious choice to allow her a semblance of freedom, and it is sweet even in its mimicry.

 

A metal hand reaches out and lands heavily on her shoulder, stopping her from running into the closed door the cowboy must have been maneuvering them towards. She flinches involuntarily at the contact, every muscle in her body conditioned to take the touch as a sign of attack and to act accordingly.

She does not throw off his arm, does not attack him, nor does she attempt to steal his weapon.

As she sees his shoulders ease slightly underneath his serapa, she realizes that he was watching her reaction very carefully. She has to give the cowboy credit. He is smarter than he looks. As he moves to key in a code to unlock the door, she thinks that she might just have passed his little test.

 

The doors slide open with a hiss, and the cowboy gestures her onwards. She walks forwards before she can lose her nerve, Mccree a few steps behind her. She feels some small sense of accomplishment when she manages not to turn and watch the doors sealing her in with the people she had considered enemies for a very long time.

  
  


To look at them you might not realize you were facing some of the most dangerous and brilliant men, women and omnics of the modern era, but she knew each of them well enough not to be fooled.

 

At the head of the long table in front of her sat the gorilla, pushing his glasses up his nose and shuffling papers nervously. Next to him sat the angel, directing careful scrutiny directly at her. She breaks eye contact quickly, the doctor’s gaze holding something disconcertingly familiar. On Winston’s other side sits an omnic with the distinctive markings and dress of one of the Shambali. Looking at him she feels a pang of regret for the loss of Mondata, someone she truly admired for many years. Next to the monk sits a red visored man she recognizes from many wanted posters and Reaper’s personal hit list.

 

But even when faced with all these miraculous figures, she is only stunned when her eyes sweep to the other side of the room, her two golden orbs meeting a single amber eye, an eyepatch covering where the other had once been.

The face is more lined than she remembers, the hair more grey, but there is no mistaking her.

 

“Ana?”

 

Every person in the room tenses and reaches for their weapons, with the notable exception of the omnic monk and Ana herself, the former because he did not appear to be carrying any weapons and the latter because Ana’s weapon had been in her hands the instant she stepped in the door. The elder sniper simply stares at her coolly with a gaze that is far too purposefully detached to be natural.

 

“Hello Widowmaker. Or are you Amélie? It’s been a matter of debate around here for quite some time. Would you mind telling us which it is?”

 

Her voice is cold and clear, like crystal or glass, and it’s just as jagged. Amari hides it well, but her anger shows in the whites of her knuckles on a concealed pistol that is showing in a far too purposeful manner, in the tension in her shoulders and the subtle fire burning in her remaining eye.

 

Mccree had said that there was a divide as to whether or not they should simply kill her. She feels it is reasonable to assume which camp Ana had placed herself in.

 

She does not blame her.

 

“How are you alive?”

 

She knows she is ignoring Ana’s question. It isn’t as important as knowing how this has come to pass.

 

Amari smiles, a tight, bitter curl of her lips.

 

“You missed dear,” she says, tapping her eyepatch meaningfully. “Now answer the question.”

 

The steel in her voice demands a response, so she gives one.

 

“I am Amélie Lacroix, though that has not always been the case.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘not always the case?’”

 

She turns to the gorilla, his deep voice having finally called her attention away from the wraith at the end of the table.

 

Focusing on detaching herself, speaking factually rather than emotionally whenever possible, she finally prepares herself for her hearing.

 

“What I mean is that in the last few years there were many times where my mind was not my own. When I was Widowmaker, as they called me. That is not the case any longer, and I wish it to remain that way.”

 

That got a few odd glances and quiet mutters. When next someone spoke it was the doctors turn.

 

“Do you know what happened to you to cause this?”

 

She swallows heavily, trying to suppress emotions that very much want to be free. The doctor does not know what she is dredging up, what demons she is unleashing. She cannot blame her, no matter how much she wants to.

 

“They called it reconditioning. Whenever I was seen as ‘unfit’, or they thought that I was breaking through their programming again, they would break me down and rebuild me however they wanted. I was not so much a person as… a playground. They toyed with creating Widowmaker inside of me.”

 

The doctor nods, though she can’t possibly understand what she has experienced. She can see another question forming in the blonde’s mind as the new information registers.

 

“If they were able to do all that, why didn’t they simply destroy your consciousness completely? How was there any of you to come back at all?”

 

She has wondered about that too, and spent much time thinking about it. It is fortuitous, since it gives her a ready answer.

 

“I have no way to know for certain. I don’t know whether it is because they enjoyed toying with me, or they needed me alive to preserve the autonomy of my body, or maybe they were incapable of finishing me off all together, but I always survived and clawed my way back to control. From the way they acted I often think it was simply because they thought I was a fun plaything. Better to keep me alive and watch the show.”

 

That was met with more muttering, more talking amongst themselves, and strangely enough, a look of pity from the doctor. 

 

She turns away. Pity does not help her now.

 

“This is bullshit.”

 

A new voice breaks through the susurration, its cadence heavy with years of weariness. She looks up, her eyes met by a featureless red slit as the vigilante makes his opinion known.

 

“How do we know that’s true? For all we know she was working for Talon of her own free will, that every life she took was her own doing because she believed in Talon’s cause. She could be preparing to kill us all and escape right now. Are any of you really buying this whole brainwashing story? This could just be training, make us accept and trust her with these lies before she slits all our throats in the night.”

 

She cannot blame him for being suspicious. She would be too. She is about to try and explain as much as she can when a new voice makes itself known.

 

“She has told us nothing but the truth up to this point.” The electronic hum and slight fuzz of static can only belong to the omnic. She looks at him, her eyes focusing on the nine sensory inputs that dot the forehead of his chassis, the layout bringing back memories of a rooftop, gunfire, and a single bullet meeting its mark.

 

“And you know this for a fact?” asks the old soldier, disbelief ringing in his voice.

 

“It does not matter,” she interjects. “You managed to hack into Talon’s mainframe during your assault, didn’t you? You would’ve been foolish not to. That means you have access to their files on the Widowmaker project, as well as the surveillance footage of my reconditioning sessions. They will corroborate my story.”

 

76 grunts, but sits, apparently satisfied, though he is clearly unhappy about it.

 

The omnic’s gaze is still fixed on her.

 

“Regardless, I have a question I would like to pose to Miss Lacroix,” he says, voice ringing like a bell, tone clear and clean.

 

It is hard to read an omnic, what with the lack of human facial features, but she is adept at reading voices as well as faces. She is surprised to hear no anger or grief in his tone, and no condemnation either. 

 

That is not something she expected, especially from someone like him.

 

She awaits the omnics question.

 

“Do you remember killing my brother?”

 

She knows lying serves no purpose. She nods once, throat too choked up to speak.

 

“How did you feel?”

 

The question takes her off guard. Of all the things the omnic might have questioned her on, she did not expect him to inquire as to her personal feelings on the subject. She stops to think about it. Marshalling herself as best she can, she answers.

 

“I admired Tekhartha Mondatta for many years, looked up to his teachings of peace and his belief in a better world. Talon wanted him dead desperately, and they made sure I was buried deeply enough not to interfere with the mission when they dispatched me. But I still remember watching him fall lifeless, feeling my finger curl on the trigger. I remember killing your brother, and I mourn his loss. I cannot begin to beg forgiveness for taking him from you.”

 

The omnic nods, accepting her response with quiet grace.

 

The room remains quiet for some time, as though everyone present is processing her declaration. Several of the people at the table are looking at her with an appraising eye, as though, just maybe, they are now willing to give her a chance. Others expressions, those she can see anyway, remain unchanged.

 

“There is another important event that happened the night of Mondatta’s death,”

 

Winston has broken the contemplative silence. She is unsure what event he means and awaits an explanation.

 

“That is also the day you first came into contact with Lena Oxton.”


	24. Chapter 24

She freezes. Something about the way he states that fact sets off alarm bells inside of her. From what Lena has said, Winston is one of her best friends. He saved her life. So why does the mere mention of her name seem to fill the gorilla with… she is afraid to come out and say dread.

 

“Has something happened to her?”

A bark of laughter sounds from where the old man resides. “Yeah. You did.”

Her blood is already cold, but now she feels as though it has frozen.

“What do you mean?’

He sits up, righteous anger coloring his movements. “Give it a rest. We know you’ve been communicating for months, even if we can’t see what about. Personally, I believe that  _ Tracer _ has been compromised, and that she was leaking information to you and Talon.”

“That’s not... I didn’t... Why would she... She’s not...” 

 

She is so shocked by his sudden accusation, and the venom behind it, that she can’t form proper sentences. Then her mind fully processes what the vigilante said.

“What do you mean you can’t see what we talked about?”

 

She cannot see his face but she has a feeling the old man is scowling at her.

 

Winston jumps in before 76 has a chance to let loose another verbal assault. “When Lena… When Tracer informed us she had been communicating with you for quite some time, we attempted to access her communication logs but found them encoded. She said that what you spoke about was private and she wouldn’t betray you by giving away that information.”

 

The gorilla very clearly felt that  _ he _ had been betrayed by a very dear friend, and that she was the reason for that betrayal. No wonder she had not been sure what to make of his expression. He didn’t even know what to think.

 

Then what he has told her truly sinks in. Lena had been accused of being a spy, of leaking information. Some of those suspicions, maybe not all but some, could have been lifted by simply showing the other members of Overwatch their messages. 

But she didn’t.

She had kept it all hidden, every witching hour confession and nightmare and scrap of trauma they had communicated over the last year.

Some might have thought she did it to protect herself. After all, they’re conversations had not been one-sided, with many personal details of Lena’s life enclosed in their texts.

But she knows Lena better than that. Besides, Winston said it himself. This had nothing to do with Lena’s side of things. Lena had informed Overwatch in no uncertain terms that she would not betray Amélie, betray  _ her _ by sharing their convrsations. Lena Oxton holds the key to her soul and she chose to keep it away from her friends to protect her, even though simply showing Overwatch their texts would have saved her from much pain and distrust.

 

Tears slowly start to leak from her eyes, though she doesn’t notice until the assembled agents in front of her start to mutter amongst themselves, looking closely at her eyes. When she reaches up and finds dampness she begins to understand their confusion. 

Widowmaker is a cold, emotionless killer. Why would she be crying?

Because she is not Widowmaker.

Because of Lena.

 

“Tell Lena to let you see them. She is not a spy and she did not leak information. We just talked.”

Winston shifts in his chair, confusion in his eyes.

“Then why would she go to such lengths to keep your correspondence hidden? Why would she wait for your go ahead to share them?”

She shrugs. “You know Lena better than I do. You know she is a completely selfless individual who always puts others needs ahead of her own. I think she was trying to protect me, to help me. Some of the things we spoke of are not things anyone would wish others to know.”

“What do you mean?”

She thinks about how to phrase this. It’s not a question she expected to need to answer.

“When we spoke we discovered that we were both plagued by nightmares. Things we’d done, things that had happened to us, things we’d seen or experienced. We both carried demons. She helped me to cope with mine, and I would like to think I helped her as much as I could. We… comforted each other.”

 

“Do you love her?”

 

She turns slowly to meet a single eyed gaze, one that is not quite as hard as it was when she entered the room. Ana does not look like she accepts her, does not look like she forgives or will ever forget. But the initial hatred is muted, if slightly. She seems more logical than before, more focused, more intent on keeping emotion out of her judgement.

 

She does not know how to answer that. She never had a chance to express that sentiment to Lena. She did not think she would ever get the chance. She examines her feelings, but it is more a way to stall than to actually confirm how she feels.

 

She has known for a long time.

 

In a voice that barely manages to leave her throat, she whispers. 

 

“Yes.”

 

She stares at the polished linoleum floor as a flood of silence meets her single word answer.

 

A hand touching her shoulder jolts her gaze up and behind her. Mccree’s brown eyes are heavy, though she cannot distinguish any single emotions from the mass that whirl within them.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to your cell,” He casts a glance behind them as they turn to exit the room. “I have a feeling we have a lot to discuss.”

 

She allows herself to be guided from the room, not sure if she has just climbed out of her grave or dug herself even deeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some important news. We're closing on the end. In fact, if things turn out the way I plan, the very next chapter will be the last one.  
> However, I'm not sure if I'm done with this story.  
> I have written several smaller segments, supplementary snippets and various other bits and bobs that I'm considering putting up, and I have a possible idea for a continuation, of a sort at least.
> 
> My question is, do you guys have any interest in that stuff?  
> Well?  
> Don't keep me in suspense too long.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys. Here it is. Last chap of the main story for Midnight Messages. You excited? Nervous? Because I SURE AS HELL AM!
> 
> Ah well. Hope you guys like it.

It is 3 in the morning.

She has not been able to sleep.

She has not had a single interaction with anyone since she was dismissed from what can only be described as her judgement.

That does not mean she is not being watched. The two sided mirror shows her nothing but herself, but she wonders what the people behind it see.

 

The story she wove hours ago paints years of action in a different light. In doing so she turned black and white justice into a grey amalgam that reduces clarity to a dream.

She does not envy Overwatch. They have to judge her.

She doesn’t even know if she is innocent or guilty, deserving of a second chance or even the breath in her lungs.

 

She would rather not think about it, but even as her body tires her mind whirls on, spinning dark thoughts made from nightmarish silk and cruel thread. Alone in this room with her thoughts.

It is terrifying.

 

She does not expect to sleep, so she does not try, though eventually sheer exhaustion forces her to the cot against the wall.

Staring at the blank ceiling of her cell, she longs for something.

A voice in the dark made up of written word and the memory of a smile. A familiar glow painting her hands, a comfort in the darkness of her room. Someone who would listen, who cared, who made the long, lonely nights more bearable. Not shorter, but less lonely, and less difficult.

 

It only hits her now, alone and awake at an ungodly hour. Now is when she realizes how much she truly misses Lena.

 

Turning to face the wall now, she closes her eyes and remembers.

The contrast between their meetings and their conversations is so striking. Furious battle and tender words, death blows and comfort.

But gradually, the battle's lost their intensity. After all they had experienced, after all they learned, neither one of them really wished to fight the other.

But the charade had to be maintained. So they fought. But their clashes lost some of their fervor, and always they met each other with apologies whenever the moon hung high in the sky.

 

Reaching under her pillow, she clutches at the space where her phone used to be, longing for the comfort the rectangular piece of metal and plastic had provided, but to no avail.

She smashed her phone. There is no comfort for her to find.

She withdraws her hand slowly, still longing for the impossible.

 

And then, her fingers graze against something. 

 

The shape is familiar, the cool metal against her skin so welcome, so recognizable.

Scarcely believing it, she pulls her hand from beneath her pillow, clutching what is, undoubtedly, a phone.

Staring at the device, she wonders how it could have possibly gotten there.

 

And then decides it doesn't matter.

 

Opening it up she quickly navigates to the messenger application, a single contact ready and waiting for her.

Without knowing what to say, just knowing she needs to say something, she sends a message.

**Are you awake?**

A moment passes. Then another.

Then, finally, a reply appears.

**Of course I am!**

**How could I go to sleep without knowing if you were alright?**

She feels a smile burn on her lips as tears burn in her eyes.

Just seeing those words, that one little message, suddenly seems to make everything seem better. She always manages to do that.

Smiling and crying in the light cast by the phone, she begins to type a reply.

◇ ◇ ◇

Neither of them sleep that night.

The other is more important.

And now that they’ve almost lost each other, they will make sure that it never happens again.

They mean so much to each other. They couldn’t do without.

And now Amélie finally has the chance to say the words she thought she would never be able to utter.

 

 

**I love you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this thing is over. Not only is Midnight Messages the piece of work that's done the best on AO3 for me by far, it's also the longest thing I've written to date (and probably one of the best too). It may not seem like a lot to some, only 20K words, but to me it's something I never thought I'd do, so that alone would've made writing this worthwhile.
> 
> But then you guys happened.
> 
> You guys were supportive, kind, helpful and literally just the best people ever. I love each and every one of you who read this and put up with my nonsense. It means more then I can ever hope to convey. Thank you all.
> 
> I have at least a few more things to put up, most of them couple hundred word blurbs and the like, so keep an eye out for them at some point in the future. Till then, just thank you all once again. It's truly been my pleasure.


	26. This is a notification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an actual chapter, it's just here to tell anyone who is subbed to this work that I have posted the first of the promised snippets. You should be able to see that this work is now in a series. The snippets are in a new work in that series.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

This isn't an actual chapter, it's just here to tell anyone who is subbed to this work that I have posted the first of the promised snippets. You should be able to see that this work is now in a series. The snippets are in a new work in that series.

I hope you all will enjoy.


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